


Enough

by LCNH1



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCNH1/pseuds/LCNH1
Summary: Roman gets a surprise visit on Christmas Eve. Dean has gifts, some beer... and some questions.





	Enough

Roman always opened his door for Dean.

He was a little surprised, still, when Ambrose arrived on his doorstep on Christmas Eve with a case of beer and presents for all three kids. The brothers embraced as little Jojo hurried off with the gifts.

"Wanna watch them open their presents?" the big Samoan asked his wayward brother.

"Let em have their fun. We gotta talk. Just you, and me. Kinda important." Dean gave Roman his signature leading look, the tacit "you know what I'm talking about" glance.

Reigns understood and grabbed a windbreaker. "We'll be back in time for dinner," he called over his broad shoulder.

The two of them walked around the back of the house and into the woods, away from civilized eyes and ears. Dean started on his third beer that Roman declined(he really wanted one). Just silent company for the first half a mile, Dean slowly relaxing as Roman kept pace.

"So what's this about?" Reigns finally asked. "You've been moping in front of the world since I had to leave. You've been messing with Seth a lot lately. You two should be tearing up the show side by side."

"Not that easy, compadre," Dean replied, not looking his brother in the eye. "Does it ever scare you, man?"

"Only thing that's scarin me right now is where this conversation is going."

"I wasn't afraid when I got the tricep fixed. I should have been afraid the second time around."

"Why?" Roman stopped, nonplussed. "Nothing scares you except when we make you buy."

Dean didn't respond to the joke. "I've been hurt. I've had surgeries. I've come back. It's the circle of wrestling life. No different with your hernia. No different with Seth's knee.

"But the staph surgery - THAT was different."

"How so?"

"I might not have come back from it. Then what?"

"Don't think about stuff like that, man. You're already in Seth's head, no sense going too far into your own, Deano."

"You don't get it, man. I got into wrestling because if I didn't there might not be a tomorrow. Wrestling tried to take away my tomorrow. It... it ..." Dean turned away, rubbing the back of his neck and fidgeting. Roman let his friend fret.

"Since tomorrow wasn't guaranteed either way, why's it bothering you now?"

"If I didn't have tomorrow it didn't matter. Now I got things that I need to be there for, tomorrow. It's bugging me - it's showing me mortality, it's showing me weakness, I don't LIKE weakness!" He grabbed Roman's jacket. "I'm NOT supposed to be mortal!" He stomped away for a second, one fist pounding his own forehead. "I was invincible, man - didn't matter how many times anyone knocked me down I got up. I got up EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Didn't matter if it was thumbtacks, light tubes, plate glass - rub in some dirt, have a beer- that almost didn't happen!"

"Whoa, easy, easy."

"WE," Dean frantically pointed back and forth, "were invincible - you've been to hell and back, I've been to hell so much I owe rent there! When is it Seth's turn for all this? First me, then you. When does SETH get his mortality medicine, huh? or do I get to do that to him?"

"Dean." Roman tried to interrupt.

"When can I take that self-centered slimeball and beat some reality into him??"

"Dean..?" Roman warned.

"When I get my hands on him again I'm gonna stick a boot so far up his ass he'll TASTE leather!"

"Dean!" Roman roared.

Ambrose finally paused, a look of confusion, frustration, hopelessnes and perhaps a touch of guilt. Those haunted blue eyes looked to Roman, who hadn't budged despite the histrionics.

"One thing you always gotta remember about tomorrow, man. You got what's happened, what's happening, then what might happen. Right now, what might happen is I kick your ass and leave you out here and bring all that beer back to my place for when I'm allowed to drink again."

"I might deserve it." Dean finished his third beer and reached for a fourth. Roman grabbed his wrist.

"I was glad you came back. Seth was glad to have you back. I didn't want to go but I had to. I promised everyone - that includes you and Seth - that I would come back. I'll make that happen. I promise."

"How can you promise that when-"

Reigns' bare right fight caught Dean square on the jaw. "I said, I promise."

"How? How do you pro-" Another stiff Samoan punch. Dean shook it off. "At least let me fini-" a third punch. Ambrose started to twitch.

"I SAID," Roman repeated, "I promise. We can do this all day. You need another one?"

"I need another beer." Dean growled, shoulders swaying. "I need-"

Dean lunged at his brother, tackling him to the ground and flailing at him with frenetic punches. "DON'T MAKE A PROMISE YOU CAN'T KEEP YOU SONOVABITCH!"

Roman took a few of the blows before he could get his hands up. He tried to make eye contact with his brother, but Dean's eyes were squeezed shut, sweat likely hiding tears he'll never admit to. The big Samoan shoved Dean off and rolled back to his feet. "You done?"

Dean lunged again, shouting in half-formed words and fully-formed emotions. He punched, kicked, screamed and flailed as Roman split the damage. Every time Dean slowed down, Roman would push him again. Dean lunged. And Lunged. And kept lunging, feelings not allowing him to stop.

"We're gonna go til you've had enough!" Roman shouted over Dean's unintelligible frothing. Dean lunged again, stumbling as he closed. Sidestepping, Roman gave Dean a legitimate boot to the ass and backed up. "You done yet? What do you want from me? Words ain't enough?"

Dean remained on his hands and knees, panting hard and trying to respond. His brain raced, his arms twitched, his lungs ached. He pushed to his feet again, eyes wild. He lunged once more, only to run into a Samoan Spear that knocked what little wind was left out of him. Roman slumped from the exertion.

"You... had... enough... yet?" Roman heaved. "I'll... keep... going... and... promise..."

Dean lay on his back, staring into the sky. He coughed a couple of times but didn't respond to his brother. He turned his head only as Roman's right hand clawed at Dean's shirt, forcibly rolling him to the side. Roman's eyes glowed a familiar dark blue and locked with Dean's terrified stare.

"Enough," Roman asked and ordered at the same time. Only then did Dean's eyes meet Roman's.

Determination. Resolve. That same icy calm that Roman carried when they started running together. A glare that did not wither Dean; that power, that hard-headed Samoan stubornness that Ambrose gained the hard way slowly put his spine back together and allowed him to breathe evenly. "Yeah," Dean rasped. "enough."

Roman hauled himself vertical, dragging Dean up by his shirt. "You're gonna make us late for dinner. That'll cost you a beer."

Dean went back to the bag and solemnly surrendered it to Roman. "Take it. WHEN you come back, I'll drink em.


End file.
